


The Case of The Wizard's Will

by moth2fic



Series: The Malfoy Connection [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, Crossover, Lewis Summer Challenge 2012, M/M, Murder (it's a cop series), an owl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: Both the aurors and Jean Innocent ask Lewis and Hathaway to investigate the death and the missing will of an Oxford academic who was also a wizard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new story in the series The Malfoy Connection. It should stand alone but you might want to see the first story in the series if you’re confused. Basically, it’s a crossover where James was deprived of a Hogwarts education by his father but is now in touch with his cousin Draco Malfoy, and is also in a relationship with Lewis. 
> 
> There is mention of both death and sex. Nothing triggering that I can imagine but I like to stay safe, hence the default rating and warning! If anyone wants to remove the sex scenes to make this safe for kids to read, feel free!
> 
> Many thanks to Fictionwriter who is my brilliant beta. Thanks also to the challenge mods who posted this on LJ for me while I was stuck without internet in the Portuguese mountains.
> 
> Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge 2016 but I couldn't get AO3 to accept that this existed...

Robbie sighed and got up.

James was breathing deeply in a relaxed sleep that was his due after the case they'd just solved. Monty was chittering with the kind of excitement cats show in novel and stressful situations. Oliver was hooting gently from his owlery. A very large snowy owl was tapping imperiously on the bedroom window.

Robbie, it seemed, did not deserve the same relaxed sleep as James.

He opened the window and the owl seemed to bow. It held up a graceful and rather wicked looking talon for Robbie to unfasten the gossamer-thin message and then looked expectant. They did not often get owl deliveries but Robbie dutifully brought a treat from the bowl kept for Oliver. Thinking harder and looking at the size of the messenger he brought a couple more. The owl crunched contentedly but did not take advantage of the open window. So a reply was expected.

It was amazing how quickly you could get used to owl post and magic, Robbie concluded. The clock told him it was only 6.00am and there was no need to be up so early. But perhaps the message was urgent? Unlikely, because the owl had settled happily on a bookcase and was preening itself. Robbie knew the big snowy owls were Ministry of Magic owls, often used by the aurors, and therefore the message was probably from Harry or Ron. He looked at it.

'For the attention of Robert Lewis and James Hathaway,' it began, so he had no qualms about unrolling it and reading without waiting for James to wake up. At least one of them could have a little more sleep.

"Dear James and Robbie," he read, "we need your help. We have a very distressed family contacting us about what they think might have been a murder and about a missing will. The story is a little garbled at present and we think it more likely to concern your own police force than ours so we are simply asking you to look out for a report from a Mr R Chase relating to the death of his grandfather Professor Bannerman. It would be better if the initial investigations could be Muggle in nature; we hesitate to intervene in a case that might have no magical elements. We will, of course, stand by to help should you find evidence to the contrary. Yours, etc., Harry and Ron."

Nothing urgent, then, and no need to have deprived him of an extra hour in bed. He frowned at the owl which took no notice. No point trying to get back to sleep now. He headed for the kitchen to start coffee and think what to have for breakfast, after feeding Monty and Oliver, of course. 

The commotion, muffled though it had been, must have woken James, or perhaps it had been the cold draught from the window. He was soon in the kitchen, somewhat bleary-eyed and wearing only an old pair of jogging pants. His face expressed Robbie's feelings almost exactly.

The owl joined them, clearly hoping to share whatever they were having, and the two men grinned ruefully at each other. Robbie handed James the note and gave the owl a strip of bacon before putting more strips in a pan for themselves. 

"There was no need to wake us early for that," said Robbie.

James considered a moment before replying. "They couldn't have known we were having a lie-in," he pointed out, "and they would have wanted us aware of the report before we got to work this morning."

"I suppose so." Robbie still felt grumpy and deprived but James was right. Maybe the bacon would make things better. 

They sent the owl back to the Ministry with a message that just said they would look into the matter. It was a good job, Robbie thought, that they had a supply of thin paper, intended for messages they might ask Oliver to deliver. He rather wished the aurors would embrace mobile phone technology although he would still, no doubt, have been woken up. 

lhlhlhlhlh

They arrived at work at a reasonable hour. Most of their colleagues were already busy but everyone knew they had been working late the previous evening making a difficult arrest and closing a murder inquiry everyone had hated, one involving a neglected and abused child. Nobody grudged them a few hours respite. 

But as soon as she knew they were in the building (Robbie swore she was telepathic and James had been heard to wonder about magical ancestry) Jean Innocent called them to her office.

"We have an unexplained death," she said. Since that was hardly an unusual thing to hear in a police station both officers remained silent but attentive. "A Professor Bannerman has died," she continued. "Death was, according to Laura, caused by a fall, but now we're wondering about the cause of the fall. One of his grandsons has come to us with a story of a missing will and a difficult cousin. We need to investigate, because he was a close friend of some of the most important Masters and Rectors. They will be watching us carefully so I want you two to take on the responsibility. You may find nothing untoward but in that case I trust you to make everything very clear." She smiled a little smugly and Robbie reflected that they would be unpopular whatever the outcome. If there was no evidence of foul play the grandson would no doubt resent them, and if there was something to find, well, the college grandees would probably resent that, on behalf of one of their own, and college professors were never above blaming the messenger. 

"Yes, ma'am," was all he said, however, as he graciously allowed James to pick up the folder Innocent indicated before they returned to their desks to discover more than just the name of the dead man. 

lhlhlhlhlh

The grandchildren - it turned out there were three of them - lived in one of the restored canal-side Victorian cottages in Jericho. It was well kept and the young woman who opened the door to them was neatly dressed in smart jeans and a crisp blouse. Her hair was long but swept back in a thing Robbie thought might be a French pleat. The style looked complicated but her face was fresh and open with no make-up.

"Good morning," Robbie began, but she interrupted instantly.

"You're the detectives who phoned," she said, smiling slightly. 

"Well, yes, but you'd like to see our identifications, I'm sure." She glanced at their cards but didn't seem anxious to study them. Instead she led them to a room where two young men sat at a table, a box of papers between them on the polished surface. All three young people appeared to be in their twenties and looked intelligent and sensible. 

"I'm Fran Chase," said the woman. "These are my brothers, Ru and Al. Ru called you. We're hoping you can set our minds at rest."

"And help us find out what happened and who has the will," said the younger man. He was slight, with fair hair like his sister, and an almost delicate look. Both of them stood and came to the area of the big room that had couches and armchairs. The whole downstairs had clearly been turned into one large room, and there was a glimpse of a kitchen area at the rear. The older Chase was altogether more solid, though slim, an athletic type with darker hair and a sad expression.

"I'm Ru," he said. "I really hope you might get to the bottom of this. We're looking through some papers we do have access to but there's nothing that would indicate a will or its whereabouts, just the rental agreement on this house - he signed as guarantor - and stuff about our bank accounts and the allowances he gave us - which will stop, of course." 

"There are other people you might want to contact about the will," said Robbie. "A lawyer, for instance." He and James sat, willing to listen and be good listeners, friendly and helpful. 

"Except that we think whoever killed Granddad took and hid it," said Ru. "So that makes it a police matter."

"But you didn't contact the police straight away," James said gently and quietly. Three faces turned to him, and there was a momentary silence. 

"That was my fault." Fran sounded a little apologetic. "I have friends, school friends, who I thought might be able to help us. But they told us to come to you after all. How did you know?"

"There was this owl," Robbie began, but although the faces turned to him they turned back when James muttered just one word.

"Hogwarts," he said.

Fran nodded. "Just me," she said. "The others weren't..."

"But Granddad was," said Ru, "and so, we think, is Uncle Simmie, who is living in Granddad’s house and might know where the will is, except that..."

"...he won't talk to us," Al finished for him. "And he might talk to you."

"So you went to Hogwarts," James said to Fran, wanting, Robbie thought, to get everything really clear. As he spoke he let his wand slip down his sleeve so that it was quite visible. "I didn't go - late starter, you might say." But his admission had relieved her and they all relaxed.

"Yes. I got the letter when I was nearly eleven and I went that September. Stayed right through to take NEWTS, too." She sounded proud. 

"And now?"

"I loved quidditch, and broomsticks. But I loved flying in general. I've qualified as a pilot and I wanted to go further, maybe to be a commercial pilot. But without the money Granddad promised, I'm sort of in limbo. Professional quidditch, maybe. Professional pilot, not so likely." She shrugged, and a shadow crossed her face. "He always promised, and he always kept his promises. That's part of why I can't believe there's no will."

"We all relied on Granddad’s promises," said Ru. "Perhaps too much. He always said there was money to do anything we wanted within reason. Not to live a life of luxury, but to do any courses we wanted and get any qualifications we really needed. I'm keen on driving, and I've been involved in motor racing, but that's not a poor man's game and now..."

"And I'm a musician," put in Al. "We trusted him, you see. He said if anything happened to him his will would take care of us. When our parents died he took over and brought us up. Car crash," he added at Robbie's look of inquiry.

"We should never have moved out," said Fran. "Then Uncle Simmie couldn't have moved in and would never have got such a hold on Granddad."

"If he did," said Ru. "We aren't sure, after all, and I'm sure these detectives want hard facts, not just our complaints." He took a deep breath. "What do you need to know, officers?"

They took all the details, the full names, which turned out to be Frangipani, Rue and Alder, not Frances, Reuben and Alan as Robbie had expected. Their mother had perhaps been fanciful or perhaps just a botanist. She was the daughter of the dead professor whose full name they already knew - Bardyllis Bannerman. The Uncle was her cousin, Simeon Bannerman, and he was unmarried. He was currently living in the professor's house on the river, not far from the place where James and Robbie had solved the case of the ghostly guests. 

"It's a huge house," said Ru. "But we felt a need to, well, find our own feet, if that makes sense. Granddad encouraged us, and we've stayed together, for now, though of course if one of us meets someone, that could change. We rented this ourselves. Fran has been doing some private pilot work on a freelance basis, I won a couple of minor races, and Al has had a few gigs as a pianist."

"We didn't mean to leave Granddad alone," Fran assured them. "We visited him regularly and kept him up to date on everything. But then Uncle Simmie moved in. We're not sure why, but Granddad said he needed a place to stay and of course he was his nephew, so there was no question of objecting. Granddad was always generous and always very protective of family."

"But Granddad still said we could rely on his provision for us." Al took up the tale. "He said he wanted to make sure we could be whatever we wanted to be. He even gave us the keys."

"Keys? To the house?" Robbie wondered why they would not have had keys anyway since they had once lived there. If the locks had been changed this would suggest some kind of ill feeling. 

"No. We don't know what they're to. He said we would find out if we ever needed to. But now he's dead, and we have no idea. We can't even explore the house for boxes or cupboards they might fit, because Uncle Simmie insists we have no right to go in."

lhlhlhlhlh

"Quidditch?" Robbie raised an inquiring eyebrow as they left the Chase household and headed for the Bannerman one. "If you've told me about that, I've forgotten."

"It's a sport," said James. "Very popular in the wizarding world. I went to a game once. Draco took me. Think of something along the lines of lacrosse with the players on broomsticks and moving up and down as well as along. With a ball that appears to be semi-sentient."

Robbie decided not to ask any further questions although it did sound quite interesting. Maybe Draco would take them both to a game one day. 

The Bannerman house was huge, with extensive gardens. The house itself was long, set at right angles to the road and quite near the river bank where there was a small landing stage but no boat. 

To the south, the gardens were formal. Low box hedges delineated different sections or 'rooms' with varied themes of colour or plant type: roses, herbs, ornamental vegetables, white flowers of any kind. 

"It looks as if someone went to Chelsea Flower Show, appropriated a number of entries and brought them back to Oxford," said Robbie.

"It's quite effective, though," said James, "and there are precedents, since early twentieth century gardening experts unleashed themselves on the world." 

They were standing on the road, near the gate, and spent a few more minutes admiring the chequered display before looking at the garden at the rear of the house. They could see, even from this position, that tall French windows opened onto a grassy area. This in turn led to a curious mound.

The garden ended in a very high and solid stone wall and the mound was plain, with beautifully manicured grass. It looked for all the world as if quarter of an orange - only green, of course - had been set down with the cut faces towards the wall and the ground, leaving the curves showing. It was huge - at least the height of four men at its highest point. 

"Whatever is it?" Robbie looked at James who was frowning. 

"I have no idea, but I suspect it's hollow. Maybe some kind of fallout shelter? Those used to be popular round about the time Bannerman was young. Maybe he had money and built it and then decided it would be better forgotten and covered?"

"Well, we can ask. The Chases might know. Meanwhile, we're here to see Mr Simeon Bannerman so we'd better get on with it."

The man who answered the doorbell's deep chime was about Robbie's age. He did not look welcoming.

They introduced themselves as the police investigating the death of his uncle but although they had phoned in advance he made no effort to invite them inside.

"There's nothing to investigate," he said, quite abruptly. "I don't understand why you're here. Uncle Bard fell down the stairs, broke his neck and died. It was unexpected but it was a pure accident. I see no reason to involve the police and can't imagine who asked you to concern yourselves. Unless it was those children, of course."

"We can't at this point of the investigation tell you who asked us to make inquiries," said Robbie, adopting his most formal Inspector Lewis tone. "And yes, we know the cause of death was a fall, but the post mortem showed no signs of anything like a heart attack or stroke that might have caused him to fall so we would like to see the stairs in question." He ignored the reference to the children, presumably the grandchildren. It could just as well have been one of the professor's university colleagues who raised doubts about the matter. 

"But there's no crime." Simeon still stood in the doorway, and they could not see beyond him to any stairs. 

"That's as may be, but if so, you should be glad to let us reassure ourselves." Inwardly, Robbie was cursing Innocent for pushing this decidedly problematic case into their laps. He had no justification for demanding entrance; as yet, the only suspicions were too nebulous to record in police files. 

Simeon sighed but seemed to resign himself to their invasion of his privacy. He opened the door and ushered them into a big hall with stairs to the right. They were not steep, the individual steps were shallow and well carpeted, there was a bannister rail to each side, and there did not appear to be any awkward turns or twists. The flight simply led directly to the first floor landing. 

James went straight to the stairs and climbed them. At the top he looked around then called down.

"This is where he was standing when he fell?"

"I assume so. I wasn't here." Simeon sounded irritated. "The cleaning lady found him at the bottom when she arrived. I was away for the weekend."

"And can you tell us who Professor Bannerman's lawyer and bank are? We need to inspect his will, you see."

"I've already told everyone, there's no will. At least not with the solicitor or the bank. And nothing I've been able to discover among his papers here."

"So how does that leave you? I mean, the grandchildren will have an interest in the estate and judging by what we've seen there'll be quite a bit of money even after intestacy is sorted out. Someone will have to sell the place and the courts will appoint an executor."

Simeon was spluttering. "Ridiculous," he said. "Uncle Bard invited me to live here. Nobody can throw me out or sell the place over my head."

"I'm afraid they can, you know," said James, coming back down the stairs, his long fingers resting lightly on the bannisters. "So you see, you might be better off finding that will, if there is one. It might even benefit you. Or you might be able to negotiate to buy the house."

Robbie had moved away from their host, who was clenching and unclenching his fists. 

"That's an interesting garden," he said, pointing through the windows they had seen from outside and now realised were at the back of the hall which ran the full depth of the house. 

"Whatever has my garden got to do with anything?" 

"Hardly your garden, or at least not yet. And it was just an observation."

"Go and observe something more suited to your abilities. Traffic or litter or something." Simeon had re-opened the front door and was glowering at them. There was no reason to stay, for now, and they left, not wanting to fuel his obvious anger further. 

lhlhlhlhlh

"An observation," said James. His lips quirked. 

"Well, yes. I assume you saw what I saw."

"The thing like a parking meter near the windows? With very obvious locks set into it? Interesting, in view of what Alder Chase said about keys. And in view of what may be a hollow mound."

"We can go back to Jericho and ask what they know about the mound, or we can go back to the station and tell our revered superintendent about our morning."

Jericho seemed to be the preferred option and they soon arrived back at the cottage. All three young people were still at home. Either they had no work lined up at present or were deliberately keeping themselves available for more questioning. 

"The mound?" Fran sounded surprised and her brothers looked startled, too. "It's been there for some time, but he would never let us know anything about it. It was built after we left and probably using magical means. I don't think you'd have much luck tracing builders or plans."

"We thought some kind of fallout shelter that he didn't need to use as storage space," said Robbie.

"No, I don't think so. We asked him but he always just smiled and said it would be clear one day."

"And do you remember a thing in the hall, facing the mound, with locks set into it?"

"There was nothing like that." Ru was adamant. "Maybe that explains the keys."

"It doesn't explain Uncle Simmie," said Al. "But you know, it's just possible the will is somehow in the mound and the keys would lead to it. Uncle Simmie will never find it in that case, unless..."

"... unless he uses magic," Fran finished for him. "But our keys might be charmed. It's possible nobody else can use them. Granddad was clever and inventive. He was a professor of botany but he had so much more about him." She sounded so sad, and Robbie could understand that. Bard Bannerman had only been seventy five when he died, and could have looked forward to years of active life. It must, he thought, have been his influence that had given the trio their unusual names.

"He might try to access the mound without using the locks," said James, "but if you're right, your grandfather might have protected it well. And if so, we'll have to hope he used spells that would last after his death, for a while, at least. I think we need to get you three into the house, legitimately, so that you can try the locks. May I see the keys?"

Three keys were quickly produced. Ru had his in his pocket on what looked like a watch chain, Fran wore hers on a cord around her neck, and Al had his attached to his key ring. James looked at them but could sense nothing other than the fact that they had been magically manufactured, possibly transformed from other everyday objects or from muggle keys. They were very individual pieces, with ornate handles. Fran's was silver, Ru's was bronze and Al's was gold. 

"We would treasure them anyway, because he made them for us," said Al. "But they might also be the clues or the routes to our inheritance. That's certainly what he implied when he gave them to us last Christmas."

"Before or after Simeon moved in?" Robbie was intrigued. The professor had been playing a convoluted game but presumably thought he had time to spare. 

"Oh, well after," said Ru. "Granddad admitted he wasn't enjoying having him there much, but said he didn't feel he could ask him to leave. But he repeated all the assurances he had always given us and then gave us the keys."

"Those friends of yours," said James, turning to Fran. "I think they might be able to help, and to tell us more about the keys. Would you mind if we contact them?"

"Ask them by all means," was the immediate reply. "They told us to come to you, but perhaps they can help still."

lhlhlhlhlh

Chief Superintendent Innocent was less than impressed with the way the case was going. Robbie was tempted to ask what case, but remained quiet. James had remained at his desk while Robbie reported their activities so far. It seemed the professor's old colleagues were indeed wanting answers and of course there were none to give. One had apparently called on Simeon to express condolences and been treated quite rudely, which Robbie could well imagine. So there were rumours and suspicions and questions that were circulating among the academic staff, current and retired, and a kind of suggestion that the police should be doing something though nobody seemed to know quite what or why. 

They contacted banks and solicitors, not just the ones the Chases had mentioned but others, in case the professor had for some reason chosen a new firm. No-one knew anything. Then they consulted with his known bank and with the local registrar who had already set the wheels of intestacy in motion. The entire afternoon was taken up with paperwork and phone calls and emails and they were glad to go home.

They spent a pleasant evening, just enjoying each other's company after they'd sent Oliver off with a message for Harry and Ron. Owl post was obviously the preferred method of communication.

"I suppose they think muggle phones are too easily hacked," said James, sitting down to their Chinese takeaway meal which had just arrived. "And we haven't got an open fire so they can't floo."

"I am not having an open fire put in so that your friends can arrive any time of the day or night," said Robbie, firmly. James laughed and assured him he felt the same way. 

Robbie speared a chunk of lemon chicken. "Draco apparates to our lounge or kitchen without a second thought."

"But Draco is Draco. He's a law unto himself. And he's family." James had tried to break Draco of the habit of turning up unannounced but Draco had laughed and even when James, blushing, had pointed out that they might be having a private moment, Draco had just laughed again and said there was nothing he hadn't either seen (with himself or others) or imagined. And that had been that. 

Draco was not in the flat at the moment, and there didn't seem to be any reason why he should suddenly visit, so they relaxed and sat watching a match. It wasn't quidditch, but it was quite exciting. 

"Do you wish they could film that game with the sentient ball?" Robbie wasn't sure he remembered its name correctly.

"Not really. It would be too hard to get all the camera angles and make it as exciting as watching it from the stands. It would probably end up just confusing everybody. And the cameras would have to be in drones or something and that would worry the players."

Robbie concentrated on the football but his mind kept slipping off to think about players flying on broomsticks. Of course, James would never have played as he hadn't been at a wizarding school, but Draco was teaching him to fly. He kept his broomstick at Malfoy Manor rather than cart it to and fro, but Robbie knew he loved it, and enjoyed his increasingly daring flights. 

"I wish..." he began, then stopped.

"What do you wish?" James was only half listening to him and spoke lightly.

"Well, I wish I could share properly in all this magic. Flying and such. I'm sometimes half afraid you'll get tired of a plodding muggle and go off with a handsome wizard on a broomstick."

James was listening properly now, and grabbed Robbie by the shoulders, ignoring the goal that Portugal had just scored on the field. He didn't say anything, just kissed him, holding him closely and deepening the kiss until Robbie was breathless and had to pull away. They stared at each other and James growled. "You are all the magic I want, Robert Lewis. If I had to choose between you and broomsticks or spells or any of it there'd be no contest."

"What about owls?" As Robbie spoke, Oliver landed on the windowsill, back from his errand. 

"What about them? Oliver is wonderful, but I do know how Her Majesty's Royal Mail works, and my mobile is perfectly efficient. I wouldn't give up Oliver now that I have him, but neither would I let him come between us."

Robbie smiled, opened the window and returned to his seat. Oliver hopped to the back of the couch and settled, quite definitely between them. James could hardly stop laughing, and Robbie joined him. Oliver tutted at their mirth, sensing somehow that it was directed at him, and this set them off into further paroxysms. Monty, hearing them, came to see what was going on, and made a kind of chirp that suggested he wanted either food or an explanation of the joke. 

When they'd calmed down, fed both cat and owl, and retrieved the message from Oliver's leg, the match was over and Portugal, as usual, had won. Neither of them could remember who they'd been playing. 

The message, in the tiny cramped writing wizards used for owl post to save space, told them Harry and Ron would be pleased to help and one of them would arrive in Oxford in the morning. 

"That gives us at least eight hours all to ourselves," said James. "I know we need to sleep for some of it, but first I'd like to show you just how magical I think you are." He got up and pulled Robbie to his feet. "The bedroom," he went on, "is the best place for the sort of display I was thinking of." And Robbie felt only too pleased to agree. 

Sex with a wizard had unexpected benefits. James could remove their clothes with one snap of his fingers, light a candle with another and lock Monty out with a third. As he hadn't grown up using a wand he seemed more attuned to wandless magic and Draco had encouraged him to develop that. He was making excellent progress, in Robbie's opinion. There was the cool and scented lube that came from nowhere when James called; it made their coupling easy and sensuous. James could cleanse them afterwards with a swipe of his palm, and tidy the room with a sharp shake of his head. Later, their discarded clothing would be in neat piles, uncreased and ready to wear. But best of all was the sensitivity to every feeling. Robbie loved the way James reacted to his slightest thought with just the right caresses and words. He tried to reciprocate but knew he often failed. James, however, was amused rather than frustrated, and told him he loved him the way he was. 

"You have real magic, Robbie," he said now, not for the first time. "Spells and charms are fine in their place but sex magic needs something deeper and you have that."

Robbie wanted to believe him. Indeed, it was easy to believe while they were tangled together, lips bruised by frantic kisses, nipples painfully taut and cocks reaching for each other. The belief would wane later; it always did. But he tried. 

Meanwhile, the display of love James was providing was everything Robbie could want. Even if the magic was subtracted it would be enough to be in his lover's arms like this. 

lhlhlhlhlh

Harry arrived at their office the next morning. He had the sense, probably because of his muggle upbringing, to use the normal route, collecting a visitor's badge at reception and allowing someone to show him to the detectives' workspace. He was introduced with the brief explanation that he had information to offer on the Bannerman case.

"I haven't," he said, as his erstwhile guide left them. "But I'm sure I can offer some expertise. I know James is making great strides but aurors have some skills that the ordinary wizard does not usually share."

James explained about their suspicions concerning the stairs and their puzzlement over the keys. 

"There was some kind of magic around the stairs," he told Harry, "but I couldn't work out what it did. It could simply have been something to alter the look of the place or keep it clean. Would that sort of spell have lasted when the professor died?"

"It could have done. It depends how it was cast. When Frangipani contacted me I looked up details about the family. Bardyllis was a very skilled wizard although he didn't mix much with the rest of the wizarding world. I think he preferred academia, and he was never involved in the war on either side. His granddaughter likes the muggle world, too. Large flying machines, I understand. Pity - she was a wonderful quidditch player. A seeker."

"And then there are the keys. They're very intricate and we suspect they fit the locks on the strange thing in the hall of the house. But could he have attuned them to the grandsons who have no magic?"

"Possibly. Again, he was skilled enough, and the young men come from a wizarding family so there would be something to work with. And of course Frangipani's key might be the one that controls the others."

"So," said Robbie, "if we can get you access to the house you can check out the stairs and then we can think whether to get access for the Chases, too."

"Oh, I think I can persuade Simeon Bannerman to let me in," said Harry, smiling. 

Robbie suddenly realised Jean Innocent was in the doorway and wondered how much she'd heard. Not much, it turned out.

"Did I hear Bannerman mentioned?" she asked. "I was coming to see if you'd made any progress."  
Robbie wanted to say that no, they hadn't made any progress overnight, but instead introduced Harry as a friend of the Chase family and the Bannerman family who thought he might be able to get Simeon Bannerman to co-operate.

"I do hope so," said Jean, once the pleasantries had been observed. "Some of Professor Bannerman's colleagues are really quite anxious and my pathologist seems to think there might be something in the rumours that are doing the rounds. Oxford doesn't thrive on scandal," she finished, looking hard at the three men as if daring them to contradict her. 

"I'm certain Mr Simeon Bannerman will be reassured by my presence," Harry told her. "And if there was any foul play I'm equally sure your officers will find evidence."

There was nothing else the chief superintendent could say in front of a civilian, even one so closely linked to the case, so she retreated, closing the door quietly, to sighs of relief all round. But the door immediately re-opened. 

"I heard you sigh," she said, "and I know it's a hard case, but I just wanted to thank you for finding Mr Potter. I hope he's able to do as he just promised." And with that parting shot she finally left. 

"I wonder what she'd say if she knew you found us rather than the other way round," said Robbie. "I mean, you alerted us to the problem and from what I can gather you persuaded Rue and Alder Chase to come to us."

"I persuaded their sister, yes. I still think we need to tread carefully. When a wizard chooses to live in the muggle world there are all kinds of implications for dealing with his property after death. We can't go round wiping the memories of half the population, after all."

James grinned and Robbie nodded approvingly then they set out for the Bannerman house. This time, they didn't phone ahead. 

lhlhlhlhlh

They paused on the road, just as Robbie and James had done on their previous visit, and pointed out the mound to Harry. 

He frowned and concentrated for a moment. "It's definitely hollow and it isn't empty. I can't tell you more just yet - it's all rather confusing - but I think we need to get them here with their keys. And to do that we probably need to find a way to get Simeon to leave. Let's see what we can do."

Simeon opened the door - at least he wasn't hiding though whether this showed innocence or over-confidence was unclear. He seemed about to make another disparaging remark about police when he realised who was accompanying them. His mouth fell open.

"Harry Potter," he said, when he'd recovered enough to speak. "I didn't know the muggle police interacted with aurors."

"These ones do," said Harry, pleasantly. He didn't offer any further information. 

"We'd like Auror Potter to see the staircase where your uncle fell to his death," said Robbie. He had pointed out to Harry on the way that any magical coercion might just make it harder to prove any case, but he hoped that the staircase would yield results beyond James' ability to grasp. Not that he had any doubts about his partner's magical talents, but he also knew the aurors had some special skills.

Simeon ushered them into the hall. Harry looked hard at the stairs without seeming to do anything, then muttered some Latin under his breath. The stairs immediately changed. The whole flight seemed to flow somehow, and swing to one side, much as the staircases in Hogwarts had done, according to all the ex-students Robbie and James knew. 

Simeon bolted. Or at least he tried to, but James caught him at the front door and although Simeon tried to cast a spell or a curse, or whatever he hoped might free him from the grasp of an officer of the law, James calmly murmured a spell that held his captive motionless until he had him handcuffed. Harry raised an eyebrow at James' wandless magic and then grinned.

"Well fielded," he said, for all the world as if Simeon had been a cricket ball or perhaps a quidditch snitch. "Someone definitely interfered with the stairs here, and given the escape attempt we can make an educated guess as to who the someone was. He didn't change things back, either, which suggests he might have intended further mischief."

"I just couldn't remember the right spell." Simeon almost spat his response. 

"I can see how the fall was engineered," said Robbie, "but not how we can prove anything to a court."

"Well," said James, "if Mr Simeon Bannerman was indeed responsible for his uncle's death he can't benefit under the will. So it would be in his interests to produce it before Auror Potter takes him away to be tried by the wizarding world. They will get its location out of him one way or another. And it seems likely it will be in the grandchildren's favour. We might not be able to get a muggle conviction but we'll know he's been dealt with and the Chases will get their inheritance."

Simeon glowered at him. "I'd tell you if I knew," he said. "I've been searching high and low. The only thing left to search is the mound and I can't access it. It resists all opening spells and I can't find any keys that might fit that infernal machine."

Harry went to the French windows and stared at the box in front of them and then at the mound. "That's because it's protected with specially attuned keys," he said. "Only the holders of the keys will be able to get access. Even auror skills won't be any use. We could probably get in but in the process we might destroy anything in there, will included, so I don't think we want to try. Particularly since we know who has the keys." 

The next couple of hours were spent with Harry returning the staircase to its normal state, apparating back to auror headquarters with Simeon, then coming back to the house. Hermione was with him.

"Ron told me about the magical keys," she said, sounding excited. "That's something I have a great interest in so I've come to see what happens." 

Meanwhile, James had contacted the Chases and asked them to come to the house with their keys. They arrived not long after Harry and Hermione, and seemed surprised but pleased to find Simeon gone. They were even more pleased that he was in the custody of the aurors, and greeted Harry and Hermione with every sign of pleasure. 

"I contacted my friend Alicia Morningstar," said Fran, shyly. "She's an auror and I wanted advice. I didn't know she'd take it to you." The last word was uttered with some awe. 

"We thought at first it might be a purely muggle matter," Harry told her. "But your uncle has been both criminal and stupid in his use of magic. He almost certainly caused your grandfather's death and you can rest assured we won't deal lightly with him. But from the muggle point of view it's probably better that he seems to have disappeared, and that we can go ahead and look for the will."

"Your keys are magical," said Hermione. "They must be, because the mound doesn't respond to any spells. I tried the minute we got here. I've been researching the use of keys like yours. May I see them before you use them?"

The three held out their keys. Hermione didn't take them, just looked carefully. A smile spread across her face. "These are wonderful artefacts," she said. "Your grandfather was a skilled wizard."

"Time to use them," said Robbie, and grinned when James nodded. 

"Frangipani first," said Hermione. "Her key is the most powerful because she's a magic user herself. The other two have power, but they will be activated by hers and perhaps by whatever happens when she uses it."

Fran stepped towards the box. Her key was delicate, with a pattern of vine leaves etched on the silver shaft. The serrated edge looked like a slightly modified F and C lying head to tail. The silver was presumably mixed with an inferior metal to strengthen it but it shone prettily and the key made an attractive pendant. Fran lifted the cord over her head and hesitated. 

The box had three locks with one above the other two which were side by side so that the three made a triangle. She evidently decided to try the top one first, and fitted the key into it. It fitted perfectly and she turned it then withdrew it.

Robbie was watching Fran but he heard James gasp and as he looked up, saw him point to the window. The upper portion of the mound was opening, slowly, rising so that a sort of platform was displayed inside. As the door or cover or whatever it was raised they could see that on the platform stood a small plane. It was silvery, like the key, and covered in the same patterns. It gleamed in the sunlight. 

Harry opened the one of the windows and Fran walked out into the garden. She moved as if she was sleep walking and said nothing but she had slipped the key cord over her head again so that the lovely thing appeared once more to be a piece of jewellery. Slowly, as slowly as the covering had risen, she walked up the slope to the platform and stroked the nose of the plane, for all the world as though it was some kind of pet. Then she opened its door, leaned into the cockpit and took something from the seat. They could see that it was paper or parchment and she paused, reading it, before coming back down the slope, her face lit up with gladness and hope.

"It's the will," she said. "He left the house to us, and the contents of the mound. He left the house we live in, or at least his stake in it, to Uncle Simeon, but we'll have to let the lawyers sort that out. I wonder if he meant me to sell the plane? I'm not sure I can - it's so beautiful. But I can decide later. There are instructions, too."

"What sort of instructions?" Ru was obviously trying not to sound too eager, but failing. 

"I have to put my key back in its lock and then yours will work, Ru." She stepped back into the hall and did just that. Her brothers had been too busy watching her to try their keys but it appeared they would in any case have had to wait. 

Ru turned his plain bronze key, still attached to its pocket chain, in the lower left keyhole and the lower left part of the mound shifted. The side nearest the road rose, just as the top part had done, and now they could all see a central line that evidently separated the lower part into two chambers. Ru's chamber held a car. It was a racing car, bronze to match the key, low and fierce-looking. They knew without being told or having to have it proved that this was a genuine car that could win races, just as the plane would fly, responsive to Fran's slightest wish. They had an air of magic about them but at the same time they were perfectly muggle machines, ones that could be used without giving away their magical origin by their owners.

Ru inspected the car, his eyes filled with awe and longing. He opened the door and took a piece of card from the seat. 

"When your key and Fran's are back in their places, Al will be able to use his," he read aloud.

So he replaced the key and then Al turned his and of course the final cover rose, to show a grand piano. It was black and highly polished, but the pedals were gold to match the key, which had musical notes on its shaft. The lid was open and a large piece of paper was on the music stand. 

Al brought it back to the hall and they crowded round.

It gave more details about the keys and the items in the mound. Just in case it hadn't already been clear, the paper made sure they understood the plane, car and piano were perfectly usable in the muggle world and were all valuable in themselves. But, their grandfather had written, they might find them to have a value beyond the obvious one, beyond their usefulness and beyond their individual resale value. He hoped they would find a way to make the best of their inheritance. If they had immediate financial needs they would find a few things in the house they could sell easily and quickly. The keys themselves had secondary uses. Fran's silver one was the key to the plane, Ru's bronze would split to show the key to his car hidden inside and Al's gold could lock the piano lid if he wished. Then there was an explanation of how he had not quite trusted Simeon and so had set up this elaborate means of making sure his grandchildren would get what they deserved. 

"His mistrust didn't extend to disinheriting him," said James.

"No, he did that for himself," said Harry, "but it's a pity Bardyllis had to die."

"He wasn't going to live many years, whatever happened," Fran said. "He had some kind of heart condition and we knew we wouldn't have him around much longer. But to go like that, so suddenly, and without us seeing him at the end..." 

Harry repeated his assurances that Simeon would suffer for his crime, and explained the way he had carried out the murder. Fran immediately understood the idea of the moving staircase. Ru and Al were as puzzled as Robbie would have been if he hadn't seen the swinging stairs for himself. However, Fran promised to explain in more detail later. For the time being she was having a conversation with Hermione that involved keys, magic, and research.

lhlhlhlhlh

"We have at least an hour before we need to get ready," said Robbie. Their best suits were hanging ready, with crisply ironed shirts, and their dress shoes were polished to a soft rich glow. James was looking at ties, his face creased into a slight frown. "Come on, lad," Robbie said, "no need to get all smartened up before we have to. Come here, instead."

James crossed to the bed, and folded into Robbie's waiting arms. 

"No need for nerves," said Robbie. "We aren't going to be the centre of attention, after all."

"No, but some of our friends will be there, we helped bring it all about, and I want to look my best."

"You always look your best. And I can make sure you know you're the centre of my attention now."

James looked interested in that idea, so Robbie made very sure, kissing him, stroking him, whispering to him and bringing him to a glorious climax. His own soon followed. James' magical cleansing skills meant there was no need for another shower, and Robbie thought again that there were advantages to having a wizard as a lover. 

They were almost dressed when a voice from the hallway told them to hurry up. Draco had arrived and was waiting to accompany them. 

"Your cousin..." began Robbie.

"...can be a pain in the neck," James finished for him, and they laughed, put the finishing touches to their outfits, brushed their hair, and joined Draco, who was holding what appeared to be a conversation with Oliver. The owl was not pleased to find he had to go back in his owlery but they gave him a handful of treats before leaving. 

They arrived at the Bannerman house in good time to take their assigned seats in the garden. The evening was cool but dry and there were murmurings and rustlings as the audience took their places. There were others from the wizarding world. Fran's friend Alicia was there with her boyfriend Lucas Golightly, Hermione and Ron sat with Harry, and James whispered to Robbie that he recognised other witches and wizards in the crowd. There were also representatives of the police, including Jean Innocent, professors past and present from the university, and some people from the motor racing world, famous for their TV appearances. For all Robbie knew, there might be pilots and musicians, too, but they weren't as obvious to him. 

The invitations had asked them to attend the grand opening of a display that the Chase family hoped would draw tourists and add to Oxford's evening entertainments in a permanent fashion. 

At last Ru stood before them, in front of the apparently unbroken mound, sister and brother to either side and slightly behind. He welcomed everyone, gave a short speech explaining that what they were about to see had been devised by his grandfather Bardyllis Bannerman and bequeathed to his family. 

"We were so touched," he said, "that whilst displaying his skills and ingenuity he still made sure the artefacts he designed were matched to our tastes and abilities." He skated over the fact that Bardyllis had made each of the items, letting the muggles in the audience think that at least some of the work had been delegated to companies and experts who could be trusted to do a good job. "To let you see the full magnificence of his vision we have closed the mound and must now enter the house to open it for you the way it opened for us the first time we saw what he had made for us. We truly hope his idea will work and that we can make this a tourist attraction that will let us carry out our chosen careers whilst adding to the interest of the area and the pleasure of anyone who comes to see it. You are our first guests, and we hope you will spread the word of this evening's entertainment to all your friends and colleagues."

He led Fran and Al into the house, through the wide open French windows and although a few people turned to look, the hall was in darkness and they could not see what happened inside. 

Robbie knew Fran's key was in its lock when the grass-covered upper portion of the mound started to move, and he smiled to himself at the gasps from the audience. None of them except the few involved in the first opening had any idea what to expect. The invitations had simply referred to an entertainment encompassing some inventions by Bardyllis Bannerman as displayed by his grandchildren.

Fran went up to her platform and Robbie realised that she was wearing a leather flying suit. He knew the plane would fly, but hadn't known it would be so full of surprises. The grass lid was well out of the way, forming a backdrop but not hindering flight, and the little machine proved it was capable of vertical take-off. There was a gentle hum then it rose straight above the mound into the night sky. It hovered over the garden, glinting slightly in the moonlight, then Fran made it do some fancy aerial acrobatics against the indigo background – loops and zigzags and ‘Bannerman’ written in white smoke - before landing gracefully back on the platform, landing as vertically and perfectly as it had risen. The hum died then Fran got out and bowed while the audience cheered. When they had quieted, she told them a little about her hopes of a flying career and about her qualifications. 

Ru’s car appeared next, bronze and gorgeous with a deep-throated roar. Its headlights looked like the eyes of a large cat – a lion, perhaps, or a panther – opening almost lazily and seeming to blink. He drove it out of its chamber and down a ramp that unfolded from its platform onto the lawn and onto a paved track. Then he made a slow drive-past to let everyone see its glory, turning just before he reached the river and driving back again. It was obvious to everyone that driver and car alike would have been pleased to show off speed and stamina; they were merely restrained by their surroundings. Like Fran, Ru told the audience about his racing so far, and his ambitions. The motor racing group cheered loudest of all.

When Al's piano emerged from the darkness Robbie wasn't sure what to expect. Al was wearing evening dress and took his place at the keyboard after bowing. And then the strains of a Beethoven sonata filled the garden. Al's playing was exquisite and the setting for his recital was perfect. 

"He's brilliant," whispered James but Robbie already realised that. He played a few more pieces, a Satie gymnopédie, a Chopin waltz and part of Nyman's score for The Piano. The choices were simple, familiar enough to be soothing and quite lovely in the calm evening. As he finished, to a standing ovation, stars started to twinkle overhead.

And then there were fireworks. Robbie had known they were coming, and had helped ensure they had a licence, but he also knew they were magical fireworks that owed nothing to gunpowder or matches. All gloriously safe and not at all costly of course but to most of the audience it would seem someone had gone to great trouble and expense. 

"Frangipani, I assume," murmured Draco and Robbie nodded. It amused them that the fireworks that seemed familiar were in fact magical, but that the mound, strange as it was, and constructed by magic, was effectively now a matter of cogs and hinges and such mundane things. 

Afterwards, there were drinks and the kind of snacks expected at such an opening night. The invited guests mingled happily, glasses in hand, talking about how wonderful the event had been and how they hoped the Chases would be able to make a success of this. There would be no shortage of word of mouth advertising.

"Fran's already had offers of work," Al said as he joined Robbie and James. "She means to do private pilot jobs that give her plenty of time to do this as well. I've had a couple of concerts offered, and Ru has had one or two racing teams showing interest. Grandfather would be pleased, I think, and of course we'll live here and run this as a business. Plenty of room for all of us, even if we find partners." As he spoke, Fran came up, hand in hand with a young man she introduced as Aloysius Morningstar.

"I'm Alicia's brother," he said. "I've only met Fran since her grandfather's death though I've heard about her for years as my sister's best friend." He looked fondly at Fran and it was obvious that one of the Chase siblings was already forming a partnership. 

They were part of a group now, Robbie and James, the Chases and Morningstars, the aurors and Hermione, and Jean Innocent who had somehow gravitated to be near her officers. 

"It was a wonderful evening," she said warmly. 

"We have Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway to thank, really," said Ru. "And you, because I believe you told them to investigate properly what could have been an easily dismissed report."

"I'm just sorry we couldn't find your uncle and charge him with anything. Still, you have your inheritance and that will have to satisfy all of us," the Chief Superintendent said.

"Oh, but the aurors will deal with him," said Fran. "Wizards don't take kindly to murder by magical means. It's just so good your officers knew Harry and Ron, and that James is a magic user too." 

There was silence. The group was a pool of dismayed quiet in the middle of the still chattering crowd. Fran looked from one to another, not quite realising what she had said or done to cause such a reaction.

Harry looked rueful. "I'll just make sure everything will return to normal," he said. And then, looking straight at Jean he started to say, "Obliv..." but stopped at her glare.

There was a pause while they stared at each other and then Harry looked down first. Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth and Ron was trying not to smile. 

"I heard nothing, saw nothing, and will say nothing," said Innocent calmly. "I have had suspicions for a while, of course, cases that have been solved by strange means and a few things about Sergeant Hathaway. Burnt cuffs, a kind of wand kept in a sleeve, and a few owl feathers.” She looked hard at him as she spoke. “Then there was the case with my friend and her ghostly visitors. Hermione, you were there, too.” This time she smiled fleetingly at Hermione. “But I will do nothing to bring the matter to anyone else's attention. I can understand that you don’t wish to be made known to the public at large. However, I do not have any intention of having my memories interfered with. I assume that's what you were about to try to do, young man."

"I'm afraid so, and I apologise," said Harry.

"As for you," Jean continued, turning to Robbie and James, "I shall have plenty to say on Monday morning in my office." But there was a half-smile on her lips as she moved away.

Fran tried to apologise. “I had no idea she didn’t know or at least only suspected,” she said. “I thought she was the senior member of your team so I truly believed her to be aware of everything.” Her face was clouded but cleared when Hermione assured her there was no harm done in the end.

"Except to Harry's ego," she added with a laugh, but Harry laughed too and so did the rest of them.

"She'd have made a brilliant witch," said Draco. "Pity she's a muggle."

lhlhlhlhlh

"So you're thoroughly out of the magical closet now," said Robbie, once they were home.

"But only to our boss," said James, "and she seems to be at least accepting. It might be easier now that she knows, but I have a horrible suspicion she'll be finding us really difficult cases that might be solved with my magic powers. I shall feel like a tame conjuror and maybe we should start breeding white rabbits." He sounded gloomy and Robbie wanted to reassure him, but then saw his lips quirk in a smile. 

"I think Oliver and Monty are quite enough for now," he said as he hung his suit up and unbuttoned his shirt. 

"Well, you were responsible for both of them," James reminded him, then turned his attention to his own clothes and their removal. He didn't use magic - it never seemed worth it for everyday actions. For sex, yes, it added some kind of sparkle to the occasion. Tonight he was simply removing his best clothes and putting them away. 

Robbie opened the window and looked out, across the city to where they'd so recently watched the fireworks. It had been a wonderful end to the case, and he hoped it would be a wonderful beginning for those three young people. Then he heard Oliver hoot a little mournfully and recalled that it had also ended in Fran outing the wizarding world to Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent, and even Harry Potter being unable to close that particular door. He hoped that would end well too, and he sighed. 

"Don't worry, Robbie," said James. "It will all be all right. Monday will be a hard interview but I think she'll be protective of us in the long run."

"I hope so, but I'd have liked to be the one to protect you," Robbie said.

"That's a mutual feeling and you know it," said James. "And we do protect each other, even against Jean Innocent."

"True." Robbie closed the window and stood looking over at his long-limbed lover who was lying quite naked on top of the covers. Despite the fact that their room could not be seen from anywhere, he instinctively closed the curtains. The room was warm and inviting, and the lamps on the nightstands cast a soft light. They could pretend, for a while, that they were in their own little world, quite safe from wizards, criminals, and senior offices alike. James probably knew exactly what he was thinking - he always seemed to.

"Come to bed," he said now, holding out his arms. And Robbie did.


End file.
